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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731996">the girl in the fireplace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes'>loupettes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>just the bits in-between [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s02e04 The Girl in the Fireplace, F/M, I don't think I even need to tag this do I?, I mean can we count this episode as AU?, Missing Scene, if so then AU, we all know this episode brought about no sense of character continuity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 12:35:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Part four of the <em>just the bits in-between </em>series: a collection of missing scenes taking place between or during each episode of series 2.</p><p><em>the girl in the fireplace.</em> Two chapters, takes place after the Doctor severs all links on the ship and tries to mend his relationship with Rose. [COMPLETE]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>just the bits in-between [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. part one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“And <em>you</em> call <em>me</em> the idiot.”</p><p>The Doctor looked up, and it was then that he found himself in the kitchen. Mickey, too. No - Mickey had just left. He wasn’t even aware of Mickey’s presence until he’d spoken, and it was the sound of his voice alone that brought him back to here and now, sat at the breakfast table with a cold cup of tea in front of him.</p><p>
  <em>How long had he been here?  </em>
</p><p>How long had <em>Mickey</em> been there? He quickly scanned the room before narrowing his gaze to the kitchen counter, the steam coming from the kettle and the used teabag on the saucer by the sink. Tea<em>bags.</em> Plural.</p><p><em>Two</em> mugs in his hand.</p><p>Rose.</p><p><em>Rose. </em>He looked down at the letter on his lap and felt a tight pinch of his hearts. He already had the anguish so twisted in the pit of his stomach that he quite frankly didn’t want to deal with Rose tonight on top of that. </p><p>Hold on, what made him think there was something he needed to deal with?</p><p>He huffed in exasperation - he had no idea what went on in that girl’s mind. Call it an extra sense he’d picked up along the way, but he could tell when Rose was annoyed or upset even if he didn’t know <em>why</em> she was. And right now, she was annoyed or upset. </p><p>Now, the trouble with Rose was those two states lead to two very different needs: if she was annoyed, then he needed to avoid her at all costs for the time being; if she were upset- he winced, his already heavy hearts dropped all the more easily at the thought. </p><p>But, then again, she hadn’t given him reason to believe she was annoyed or upset. He quickly ran back through the events of the day - regrettably so, when the grief he had built to contain began to seep through to his blood. He'd gotten so good at coping with a deeply pained turmoil by dissolving all current thoughts that he felt all of them empty from his mind, closing his eyes as he tried so desperately for the agony of loss to torment him no further.</p><p>
  <em>Focus. </em>
</p><p>Rose. Right. Goodness, he’d spent most of the day with Reinette that he’d hardly seen or even spoke to Rose. Was that why she was upset? She was feeling left out? No, no. That doesn't sound like Rose, plus she had Mickey with her today she definitely had enough company. And she'd given him every reason to believe she didn't particularly <em>want</em> his attention after last night's conversation. No, it was something else. Something else, come on, what is it?</p><p>Maybe she wasn’t upset, and maybe she wasn’t annoyed. Perhaps it was more that she was... <em>off. </em>Yes, off, that was the word, that felt more accurate. <em>Off</em> was a middle ground, a sort of unidentified unfavourable emotion that he knew, with the right words and the right tone of voice, he could soothe.</p><p>Ok, ok that's good. Right, so: she’d asked him if he was alright, but he knew it had taken her a bit more confidence to ask than most other times she asked -</p><p>Or had it? Was she actually ok and he was just overthinking it because of what happened between them last night? </p><p>No. No Mickey had called him an idiot - so he was right in his initial conclusion that Rose wasn’t ok. </p><p><em>Rose wasn't ok.</em> What an absolutely abysmal realisation.</p><p>Which brings him back to <em>why</em>. The Doctor felt a weight on him so heavy at considering the sheer volume of potential responses to the question of <em>why</em> that he was too blindsided and quite honestly broken to want to confront that tonight. </p><p>But then he remembered that <em>Rose wasn’t ok,</em> and above all else, he needed and wanted so desperately to <em>fix</em> <em>that</em>. </p><p>Right. Need to talk to her to get to the bottom of it.</p><p>He glanced back down at the letter, a weight in his lap much heavier than a piece of paper. Reinette was gone, as much as his hearts broke at the thought. He didn't even know why, or what it even was about this woman that had captured him. All he knew was that he felt devastated, empty at the loss of her.</p><p><em>She was gone. </em>The words echoed around his mind, leaving nothing but a terribly silent chasm in its place.</p><p><em>But, </em>he thought, Rose was not, and worse yet: Rose may even be <em>upset</em>.</p><p>That was all it took to give him the strength to gather to his feet and search for her. He poured his tea down the sink and put the cup on the side, too determined to bother washing it up.</p><p>Now, given how yesterday went, he’d learnt he needed to have a clear idea of why she was annoyed or upset before trying to resolve the conflict. He sought the explanation closest to the forefront of his mind to consider first: he supposed he <em>had </em>pushed her to the side a bit today - of course, not aggressively, nor even intentionally so - </p><p>Hold on, <em>had he?</em> There’d been that niggling feeling, at the back of his mind, all day, that had, come to think of it, erred him on the side of a harmless and curative light dalliance if only to avoid confronting it. What was it? An emotion, yes definitely an emotion, and not a very good one judging by the fact that he’d pushed it to the side so far he now couldn’t discern it. </p><p>Bloody <em>emotions</em>. He couldn’t stand the things sometimes, and this incarnation, in particular, had apparently quite the likeness for them, ironically. No, <em>likeness</em> wasn’t the right word, perhaps <em>range </em>was a better fit. He didn’t just seem to have different degrees of anger, how now seemed to have different types too: passive-aggressive anger, judgemental anger, regular old just-pissed-off anger, grief-struck anger - </p><p><em>Rose. </em>Rose, come on, get back to <em>Rose</em>. </p><p>Where was he? Ah right, yes, that feeling. Come to think of it, it was actually quite hard to remember the feel of that feeling now-</p><p>Hold on, why was he now focusing on <em>his</em> feelings? It was<em> Rose’s</em> feelings he was trying to determine.</p><p>He stopped in his tracks, his footing much heavier with the weight of everything. He felt exhausted, and he was devastated.<em> Tomorrow, </em>he proposed to himself. <em>Just deal with this tomorrow.</em> But then the idea of Rose potentially even crying once more reached him, and his feet propelled him forwards.</p><p>He arrived at her door before he’d had a chance to finish deciphering all possible explanations for her off-ness. He considered not knocking, knowing full well he needed to have a plan before he faced her - well, not a <em>plan. </em>Just an idea of why she was feeling the way she was. The memory of her only yesterday, under the floor of the control room, looking back at him with such hopeless disappointment when he’d apologised without knowing <em>why... </em>goodness did he want to avoid that; he didn't think his hearts could take it. </p><p>But, he was here now, outside her door. And petty though it was, the thing that finally caused him to knock was the sound of Mickey Smith in there with her.</p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>Even just by the sound of her voice, he knew he didn't want to push this door open tonight. He was about to step into the unknown, which usually he would leap into, but tonight it filled him with dread. </p><p>Rose was sitting on her bed with her back against the wall, Mickey sitting cross-legged by her feet. They both looked like they ere enjoying a cup of tea before he’d announced his arrival, but the air shifted quite dramatically into an air similar to the one yesterday, only <em>much </em>heavier somehow. Perhaps it was the addition of Mickey’s own feelings, or perhaps it was he’d slipped into the scenario he was trying to avoid: the one where she was <em>angry</em>.</p><p>Mickey put his hand on her ankle and the slight comforting squeeze did not go unnoticed by the Doctor. The prospect of an annoyed Rose <em>again </em>was enough for the Doctor to nearly snap at Mickey for daring to touch her if it not for his knowing that the gesture was out of care and protection. Rose nodded, Mickey nodded in return, then slipped off the bed. He passed the Doctor, closing the door behind him, and the Doctor was both relieved and frightened to hear his steps growing distant as he left them to their privacy. </p><p>Rose fiddled with the handle on her mug. The Doctor couldn’t draw his gaze from it, the mug in particular. A terribly old one, one of the few she’d brought with her at the very beginning that he was fairly sure was from Tesco, where the print had worn away after washing and use over time. But she liked it. Said she liked the feel of it in her hand. A sentiment he’d once smiled at, but now he couldn’t quite seem to reach it. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she spoke finally, and he furrowed his brow. “That she died before…”</p><p>His eyes flickered up to her, confused. He had expected a lot to happen once he stepped over that threshold but her apologising was not one of them.</p><p>She sniffed and scratched her chin nervously. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“About what happened?” There was a particular difficulty, a strain perhaps, in the way she spoke; he could feel the added effort it took for her to say the words. No, not quite the effort in saying them: the effort in <em>choosing</em> them. “I dunno… I know you’re feeling a bit shit about it all and I just - I’m here. If you want to talk.”</p><p>He tugged at his earlobe - that sounded like the <em>last </em>thing he wanted to do. But, was it something <em>she </em>wanted? Did she <em>want</em> him to talk to her about it?</p><p>She sighed. “Why are you here, Doctor?”</p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p>“Why did you come to my room?”</p><p>He looked down at his socks, planted firmly on the ground, in search of his answer. One of them was on inside out, and it was tugging at his patience that the seam wasn’t aligned with his toes. Her t-shirt from that day had been cast aside and now lay in a messy heap along with her jeans next to him. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he offered, internally wincing at how empty it sounded as soon as the words left his lips. That, and he was very aware that it sounded awfully similar to something he’d said only yesterday.</p><p>She raised her eyebrow, but didn’t draw her gaze from her cup. </p><p>He had to work quite hard to fight against the groan at the thought of yet another conversation where he’d have to guess Rose’s thoughts. It was easier last night, because he’d been a part of the same conversation outside that cafe. But he hadn’t seen all that much of Rose today so he was finding it quite difficult to decipher the code on instinct alone. He was <em>tired</em>, and he was still trying to deal with his own inner turmoil whilst feeling completely numb - trying to guess Rose’s and fix that too was something he so desperately wanted but was just too emotionally drained to do. </p><p>Objectively speaking, the only thing he knew he would have to apologise for was leaving her behind when he had to get back to Reinette - but she’d shown no disgruntle towards him having done so. Or had she? He was so busying trying to <em>get there</em> that he didn’t notice how Rose was feeling. But she’d have been fine? She’d had the TARDIS, she’d had Mickey. And surely she'd have known he'd find a way back? Hitch a ride back somehow, he'd find a way. He'd always find a way back to her, no question about it. And when he did come back she was happy to see him, not scornful. </p><p>Well, it was a start. </p><p>“I wasn’t thinking, when I left you and Mickey on that spaceship," he ventured. "I make decisions on the spot and this was, admittedly, a bad one.”</p><p>She was quiet still. He watched her fingers now, tracing the letters on her mug more structurally. She was angrier now than when he’d entered the room. He continued in his pursuit of defence, although much less confidently so, and with a frustration stirring in his chest. </p><p>“But you had the TARDIS, at least you had something. You know I would never have left you without some way out at least.”</p><p>She stared ahead; no raised eyebrow, no chewing on her bottom lip. Just still.</p><p>Christ, trying to read Rose was a bloody nightmare, <em>especially </em>when she showed no indication of her current thoughts or feelings. Perhaps after this, he could go and work on a <em>‘Rose’</em> setting for the TARDIS’ translation circuit. It was starting to piss him off - Rose had always been the <em>first</em> one to protect history. She wouldn’t have let Reinette and the rest of French history to go down the swanny, so why she was so angry at him doing the best he could in that moment, he’ll never know. </p><p>“Look, I couldn’t let her die in that ballroom at the age of thirty-seven because Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson did not die in that ballroom at the age of thirty-seven.”</p><p>He watched her, how her facial features simultaneously softened and hardened at the same time and he felt that shiver down his spine, that frustration of his starting to boil at the surface. </p><p>She quickly finished the rest of her tea before leaning over her bed to put the empty mug on her bedside table. “You know what, I actually don’t think I want to talk about this tonight.”</p><p>
  <em>Oh for the love of go-</em>
</p><p>“Yeah, you're right. Best we just leave it,” he gritted. He turned on his heel, took one last glance at her t-shirt on the floor and swung the door open. </p><p>He could feel that irritation saturating his blood; he could <em>never</em> understand her. He was almost certain she’d want an apology - an explanation at the very least - but when he tries to give her one, she refuses! <em>Angrily! </em>What in the world had he done that was so wrong she was <em>angry</em> about it?</p><p>He huffed and kept walking anywhere his feet might take him. To his horror, he saw Mickey hovering outside the library and he audibly groaned at the thought of having to face <em>him</em> at some point, too. Although, an angry Mickey Smith was so far down his list of things to worry about he couldn't foresee a point nor need to deal with him <em>anywhere</em> in the near future.</p><p>“I keep forgetting you’re not human, but you’re just as alien as every other man!”</p><p>His feet came to a halt almost entirely of their own accord to her bark. He inhaled deeply, fighting back his own release and turned to face her. If he thought she was angry yesterday, this was off the scale. There was no hurt behind her eyes, no heartbreak. She just looked <em>furious</em>. It only made <em>him</em> even more furious. </p><p>“What on <em>Earth</em> is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>It may have been his words, or it may have been the way in which he delivered them that caused her well-maintained expression to crack, revealing below its surface an emotion so disarming he felt his own aversion to it deep in every cell, piercing his every nerve: betrayal.</p><p>His body reacted much faster than his mind did, and he started to move towards her, his pace beginning to quicken as his strides only strengthened, determined to reach her. He had no idea precisely why he was moving to her, nor indeed what he planned to do when he got to her; he just knew that the look on her face was so harrowing that his hearts yearned to comfort it, do whatever needed to be done without rest until every single hurt, any and all pain and anguish that plagued her in this moment had vanquished. </p><p>The closer he got to her, the more he could see the flare of her nostrils, the dilating of her pupils and the stiffening of her shoulders as she too braced herself for the unknown. He could see she was oscillating between standing her ground, protecting her already broken heart, seeking his comfort and preserving her anger with every step he took.</p><p>In the end, it was the last-minute pinch in her throat when she only just about managed to catch her sob that made him stride past her. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. part two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She knew she was going to have a hard time sleeping, but this was torture. No thanks to her mind running through every moment of today, of course. Every touch, every look that he didn’t give her. All the touches and looks he was giving to somebody else, to <em>her. </em></p><p>She had to move. She’d tried everything: reading, painting her nails, taking her nail polish off, plaiting her hair, straightening her hair, taking a bath. Truth be told, she’d spent much of the evening researching in the library information, history about Reinette Poisson, and it turned out she was perfect. An advisor to the king, stopped bloody nations from arguing and forming an alliance, amazing artist, and she probably influenced Voltaire or something else bloody ridiculous by the sounds of it. She was literally a goddess, and she was bloody <em>gorgeous. </em>Soft skin, gorgeous blonde hair pinned so beautifully and intricately to her head, dresses with pinched waists and she didn’t even wear mascara! Rose had brought a book back with her in particular, one that really hurt the most, one that talked about her romance and affairs and Rose dared think about them, what they did today, what she was certain they’d done together. It made her sick.</p><p>She remembered the look in his eye when he stormed past her, that fury he held, and it was unbearable to add it to the list of looks he had and hadn't given her today. </p><p>She didn’t know this man, and she didn’t particularly want to. </p><p>She missed her friend.</p><p><em>Right, this is useless, </em>she huffed and looked once more at the clock - just gone 4.</p><p>Time to give up. </p><p>She contemplated making a cup of tea, but she had quite a high chance of running into him in the kitchen. She thought about which direction might be the best to wander in, paths that would reduce the probability of running into him along a corridor and she had a rough idea of where she could go, so she pulled on her socks and stepped outside, allowing her feet to take her wherever they may. </p><p>Conscious that he could hear just about every move she made, she gently touched the TARDIS’ wall in the hopes that she might listen, play a bit to Rose’s side this evening - well, morning. Rose could have sworn her hum lengthened, softened almost, to her touch. It only tightened that twist in her chest, knowing that Rose was <em>so close </em>to <em>everything </em>involved in his life and yet he still chose to leave. </p><p>That, and the fact that the TARDIS must be feeling about the same way as Rose; she too had been left behind. She thought back to her conversation with Sarah Jane yesterday, about the Doctor stroking parts of the TARDIS and they’d laughed, but now Rose had never felt more connected to her than right now. </p><p>She began her quest, although she had no idea where she was going. She didn’t know for how long, either - whether she was going to keep walking around until morning, or whether she was just going to disappear into the depths of the TARDIS. She liked that idea - give him a bit of a fright, make him worry, make him think he’d lost her and he’d never get her back. </p><p>Which meant that she should stop thinking about it before she completely lost herself. </p><p>She turned a couple of corners and was, once more, plagued by the losses of today. Her mind had this awful trick of running over the particularly painful parts - why couldn’t she remember the hug he gave her, the smile in his eyes when he saw her without feeling the terrible piercing of her chest?  </p><p>Earlier she was furious, but right now she was just inconsolable. She missed the anger - she knew what to do with it. But this heartbreak, knowing that a man she was hopeful to believe might have feelings for her, if it were even possible to, fell in love so quickly with <em>someone else,</em> someone he’d known barely 5 minutes? </p><p>If that didn’t scream he wasn’t interested in Rose, then she didn’t know what did. </p><p>Then her mind began taking her deeper into the darkness, into the unknown, the one where her heart dropped as a plea for her not to venture in. </p><p>But she did. She toyed with the thought that he actually didn’t want her here at all.</p><p>What if he could see that she was… well, she had fallen in love with him? What if he’d panicked because he didn’t want her to have? And this is his way of pushing her away, getting rid of her.<em> ‘Maybe if I show her how easy it is for me to fall in love with anyone other than her, she might get the message?’</em></p><p>Oh my god, <em>Lynda. With a ‘y’.</em> </p><p>It wasn’t the same of course, she was fairly certain her last Doctor wasn’t in love with Lynda-with-a-y, but he could tell Rose was getting a bit too close so he sent her home. Maybe he wasn’t trying to save her, maybe he was just trying to get rid of her and now he's stuck because she bloody came back-</p><p>
  <em>No Rose, come on, you know that’s not - he asked you to come with him again!</em>
</p><p>Although, did he? He never actually asked her. He’d said he’d love for her to come, but only after she said she wanted to go with him.</p><p>Come to think of it, he’d never told her he wanted her there. He’d said yesterday that she could spend the rest of her life with him, but what if he wasn’t implying he’d be ok with that, too? What if he was literally just saying she could, she’s able to?</p><p>Reinette was the only person he’d asked to come with him.</p><p>
  <em>No, the old one asked you!</em>
</p><p>But the new one hadn’t.</p><p>He’d moved on.</p><p>Maybe she needed to, too. Maybe that's what he wanted.</p><p>She turned on her heel, even going back on herself in the hopes that physically changing her path might take her thoughts down a new one, too. </p><p>She pushed open a door aggressively, in part to release her of her own melancholy and self-pity. She had no idea where she was and found herself in yet another long corridor, but this one had an open doorway at the end leading to a patch of what she could only assume was <em>greenery</em>. She kept walking until she reached it and was still somehow still surprised to find she was right, and had somehow stumbled upon a vast botanic garden of sorts, encased in glass with low light. </p><p>This sort of stuff didn’t particularly phase her anymore and it wasn't the fact that life grew on the TARDIS that had caught her interest - the Doctor had long since "installed" daylight into her room to help keep her to a routine she was used to. But it was how much she instantly felt <em>calm</em> the moment she stepped into it. She finally felt like she could breathe and she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of <em>silence</em>. It was actually rather odd to be in a garden such as this and not hear wildlife of any kind, but Rose simply continued to breathe, standing still and letting her surroundings soothe her until her feet started to move, much lighter and far easier than before.</p><p>And there were so many flowers, it would seem. The deeper she ventured into the gardens, the more types she saw. Flowers she’d never seen back on Earth, mixed in with ones she was familiar with. She kept wandering at a nice leisurely pace, further and further until she reached a small pond. There was a patch of grass not too far away, so she sat herself down. Not two minutes later, she laid herself on her back and looked up. </p><p>She didn’t realise how long she’d been walking, but she found herself now faced with a sort of amber galaxy with no stars. The light in the... <em>very big greenhouse? - Whatever this place was - </em>was low, and she assumed it must be dawn in keeping with what she assumed was now 4:45ish, but nevertheless, she wondered what it was. Odd to see it without the glittering flecks of stars indeed. But her mind was frankly too tired to try to understand the depths of the universe, what lay outside the TARDIS at this moment. So instead, she closed her eyes and revelled in that calm, knowing she was so far away from her room, from that bed that had become hostile to her, the book lying besides it a torturous temptress. The silence around her was so heavy that she felt it blanket her, a weight so strong that it grounded her, pinning her to the floor, compressing her body and putting all anxieties to rest with it.</p><p>It was only when it was interrupted, when the silence split, was she forcefully reacquainted with them.</p><p>She heard it, the sound of <em>him. Somewhere </em>nearby. She groaned angrily; mostly because she was furious that he’d intruded on her safe haven, but also that fact that she could recognise him simply by his own movements. It only reminded her how further apart they’d grown in the last forty-eight hours.</p><p>“<em>How</em> did you find me?”</p><p>She didn’t open her eyes; she knew if she did she’d either scream for him to leave or cry. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could still see his hands stuffed into his pockets, his trepidatious and idle steps finally coming to a stop about two metres away from where she lay. </p><p>“I always know where you are,” he said quietly, and she heard his sniff. “I have a sense for it.”</p><p>“Well, then you’d have sensed that I didn’t <em>want</em> you to follow me.”</p><p>She thought perhaps if she’d had sounded angry, like she knew she was, then he would have left her alone. But she hadn't; her voice had broken at some point during that utterance and even <em>she</em> could hear the not-too-distant tears. She supposed that’s why he didn't move. </p><p>“For <em>god’s</em> sake, what do you <em>want?”</em></p><p>He huffed, and she braced herself for him to start a new argument. She wasn’t entirely sure that she’d be as civil this time.</p><p>But he didn’t. No words, no more signs of irritation; he just stood.</p><p>So she did pull herself up then, but not to her feet. She wanted to glare at him from below, firmly planted on the ground so that <em>he </em>left. She expected him to be staring back at her in anger or whatever it was when he’d looked at her earlier, but he wasn’t. Instead, he was looking at the floor, his brow knitted as though in thought. </p><p>Perhaps he was mulling over how much of an absolute twat he was. </p><p>“If you’re not here for anything in particular, do you mind just doing nothing somewhere else?”</p><p>His eyes flickered to hers and they were both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. She’d have thought before that they might indicate he was sad - worrisome, maybe - but she now couldn’t decide if they were just… empty. Like what he was looking at in this moment no longer instilled any joy or emotion of sorts in him.  </p><p>She wanted to leap to her feet and scream, go completely ballistic and lose her mind. But then she really <em>would</em> look like a nutter, like the jealous bitter ex-girlfriend who’d require a bloody restraining order. So she turned to look away from him - the only chance she might have yet to not push him into that pond. </p><p>She heard him sigh and, to her horror, move towards her. He sat down next to her and she faced forwards once more, catching sight of him only out of the corner of her eye. His legs were pulled to his chest, arms hugging them tightly. His head was buried in his knees and, as much as she hated to admit, she wondered what he was thinking. </p><p>No, she burned to know. She wanted to know what had happened today, between the two of them. Whether he had kissed her, or had sex with her, or had fallen in love with her. She wondered whether he wished it was Reinette who sat next to him now. She wondered whether he was remorseful, angry, frustrated, hurt. She’d heard all that she needed to hear tonight yet still had so many questions. </p><p>They stayed in silence for what felt like half an hour. Probably was, by the fact that their positions had changed; he’d now crossed his legs to mirror hers, and she was picking at the blades of grass and chucking them aimlessly, paying extra attention to the times she’d chuck them in his direction. Sometimes he’d pick them up and fiddle with them himself. It was only when he dared to throw one back to her that she whacked his knee. </p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>She scoffed in annoyance. “For chucking grass at me, or for leaving me on a spaceship 2000 years in the future?” </p><p>“I think we both know sorry isn’t going to cut it with that second one.”</p><p>“That second one?" she growled. <em>"Say it.” </em></p><p>He swallowed, and it did take him a second before he spoke. “Leaving you behind.” </p><p><em>Leaving her behind. </em>He left her behind, for another woman. He almost told her yesterday how he felt, he’d managed to catch it and keep it for his own self-preservation, and now, not twenty-four hours later, he’d left her. </p><p>“You’re right. Sorry <em>won’t</em> cover it.”</p><p>And so they went back to silence. Rose thought it might just be one of those things where there were so many things he needed to apologise for that he might be spending the rest of her life just doing that. Crap life that would be. </p><p>She <em>hated </em>that so much of her reason to stay with him came down to <em>him. </em>The stars and travelling the universe he was offering her, and yet she still wanted more than that. What’s worse is that there was <em>another </em>woman who wanted him and she’d <em>got </em>him. He wasn’t supposed to <em>be</em> anyone else’s! But now the thought of knowing he’d made another woman feel like <em>she </em>was special, that <em>she </em>was different too was unbearable. The battle against keeping her tears behind the front line was getting more gruelling and demanding; Rose wasn’t sure how much longer she could withstand this stalemate.</p><p>But then she thought about what she would look like if she just started crying. She wondered whether he might try to comfort her, try to put his arm around her, but knowing what she knew now, knowing that he was grieving over somebody he’d fallen in love with, somebody who he was willing to give up the life he loved for, only indicated that he wouldn’t. He’d just <em>leave. </em></p><p>Maybe that was her best option. Maybe crying would finally get her some peace. </p><p>She shouldn’t be facilitating this conversation, she shouldn’t even be taking part in it. But at this point, she was so angry, and <em>just wanted to be left alone </em>that she didn't care.</p><p>“You said to me <em>yesterday</em> you would never leave me behind” - he opened his mouth, about to say something, then decided not to. <em>Finally</em>, she thought, about time he <em>listened</em>  - “wither and die, you said, and I <em>tried </em>to see it from your side, I really did. And I <em>did</em>. And I’m <em>still</em> trying, to see your side. But I just <em>can’t</em> with this one.”</p><p>He kept quiet. Frighteningly so, she’d have thought he’d try to input his opinion by now, so she continued. “I’ve always understood you. Even if I disagree. You do some mad things every now and then but I’ve always understood your reasoning. Today was the first time I didn’t, and that scares me.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because, Doctor, you were a stranger to me today.”</p><p>She saw him turn his head out of the corner of her eye to face her. She didn’t want him looking at her, but she couldn’t exactly ask him not to, so she kept her eyes fixed ahead.<em> “He </em>wouldn’t have left me.”</p><p>He was quiet for a moment. “Who?”</p><p>“Him. <em>My </em>Doctor.”</p><p>When he didn’t say anything, she turned. It was the only way she thought she might get a two-way conversation out of him because he certainly wasn’t using his words. But as soon as her eyes found his, she caught the small glimpse of a sorrow so deep within, and his gaze dropped. </p><p>“You didn’t just leave me today, Doctor,” she continued, despite her entire insides screaming for her to stop, “there was once a time where he - <em>you</em> couldn’t push the button to save the entire world because it meant you’d lose me.”</p><p>His brow creased a little as the words reached him. She kept going in the hopes that he might hear them.</p><p>“But tonight you made that decision so easily, only it wasn’t the world, it was <em>one</em> <em>woman.”</em></p><p>His eyes flickered at that and she could practically hear him screaming that it wasn’t just one woman, that it was for the sake of history, and she couldn’t hear that argument one more time. She couldn’t stand to watch him miss the point so drastically any longer. His brow was creased together in a way that told her he was <em>trying</em>, searching the floor for another angle to look at the events of the day from. </p><p><em>See me,</em> she pleaded.</p><p>“Is that how you saw it? That I was making a choice between saving you and saving her?”</p><p>“Obviously not, I didn’t need saving,” Rose resigned sadly when he didn’t change his expression, “but it’s hard for me to not feel like you made a choice between me and her, and you chose to give up all of time and space for <em>her.”</em></p><p>The silence that followed was piercing. His eyes had closed and she couldn’t be sure he was breathing his body was so still. It was only when his lips parted did she hear his intake of breath, see his shoulders and chest rise and fall in a way that made her realise she’d reached finally him. That maybe now he <em>felt</em> that pain for her, the one she had felt earlier when she was left behind. </p><p>He swallowed, and she braced herself for what he was about to say. But he didn’t say anything, he only closed his mouth.</p><p>She chewed her bottom lip. She didn’t know what she thought this conversation would bring, but she certainly didn't think it would be this. She’d first expected him to be clueless, to act like Rose had plucked a problem out of nothing, looking for a fight following the events of yesterday. She also imagined he might be angry, selfish even; that she was thinking about herself when he was going through something so heartbreaking. She imagined he might even have tried to be sorry, apologise for what he’d done and beg for her to forgive him, as she walked out that door with her backpack slung over her shoulders. But this? This silence? This lack of explanation, it was -</p><p>“I’ll always be your Doctor.”</p><p>She blinked. “What?”</p><p>“You said then that the other one was yours,” he said, holding her gaze firmly, “I am too. If I’d have <em>known, </em>Rose, that you’d have believed for a heartbeat that it was me choosing somebody else over <em>you </em>today, then I’d have let history fall to shreds without a second thought.”</p><p>Her heart sank and her chin jutted forward in shock, eyes widening to finally give way to those tears. He didn’t mean it, of course he didn’t - he’d never let history fall because it was his duty as a Time Lord to preserve it - but <em>saying</em> it, allowing himself to speak the words he knew weren't true if only to reassure her they may as well be stunned her, an admission she never even dared hope to hear. </p><p>Confused by her reaction, he quickly turned to face her and instinctively went to hold her, but hesitated with his arms loosely extended before him, his eyebrow raised as a silent request for permission. She nodded just about the time her sob caught in her throat and she wanted to shift closer to him as much as she <em>didn’t </em>want to. Frozen in place, he made the decision for her, bringing himself closer, holding her to him until her arms reacted too, clinging to his back, her head tucked into his neck. </p><p>“I am <em>so </em>sorry I made you feel that way today,” he whispered, and it was only because of the silence of the room around them that she heard it, “that I made you doubt I wouldn’t choose <em>you</em> above all else. I will always get back to you. No matter what. I will always <em>want </em>to get back to you because you are, in the end, <em>all that matters.”</em></p><p>Now unable to see him, she dared speak the words she’d been ever so frightened to. “Who was she, to you?”</p><p>“She was… all the wonderful things you worry she was, but just not as much as <em>you</em> are.”</p><p>She wished she could tell him how she’d heard all of this before. How boys had told her she was special, the most special to them, only to be proven naive so very shortly afterwards. She’d done this, she’d been the fool far too many times and it was utterly heartbreaking that the Doctor, the man who was supposed to be <em>different, </em>could make her feel exactly the same. </p><p>She wouldn’t have even considered the words he was saying if it weren’t for that fact that she somehow <em>felt </em>them true. The way they translated through his hands and the hold they had on her, one firm and strong with fingers spread wide on her back, the other soft and caring as it kept her head so close to him, as close to his hearts as possible. </p><p>It was, dare she say, the most loved she’d ever felt by him. </p><p>
  <em>But he'd still left her.</em>
</p><p>She was tired, so exhausted, so confused in the way she was feeling, her body ached in so many ways that she simply just <em>let herself </em>be swept away by whatever she wanted this moment to be. One where he loved her, where he told her she was more important to him than time itself, one where having her like this in his arms felt as important and powerful as it did her. But that’s all it was: wishful.</p><p>She never wanted to see him again. </p><p>But she never wanted to leave his arms. </p><p>Without thought, her heart chose the latter. And she <em>hated </em>that she sank into him even more, that she felt his arms tense as he held her upright. He shouldn’t have the opportunity to hold her, he shouldn’t have the right to touch her.</p><p>She felt his body begin to quiver as it tried to hold her at such an uncomfortable position and she had a choice: to leave him now, go to bed and consider her next move; or to readjust, stay, trust his words and her gut feeling that she is different, that he's the Doctor and she's Rose and they're <em>them. </em>She began to move, and made her decision when he didn’t let her go, instead shifting himself to make her more comfortable, uncrossing his legs to bear the weight of them both. She automatically did the same, shuffling closer to him and turning so that they locked together, sitting facing opposite directions and her head able to rest on his chest. Her eyes closed of their own accord and she listened to his hearts, beating away softly under her ear in a steady rhythm so consistent that it soothed her, a wave of yet more exhaustion washing over her until she wanted to just let it take her.  </p><p>She realised, by the fact that when he shifted she jolted, that she had indeed drifted off to sleep. He noticed and froze, keeping in place for fear of disturbing her any more. </p><p>She struggled through her exhaustion to speak. “I need to ask you something.”</p><p>“Anything,” he whispered.</p><p>“I need you to help me find my room.” </p><p>She felt his tension ease in his chuckle. “I won’t lie to you, Rose, but I have no idea where we are, either.” </p><p>“Once again, thoughtlessly leaping into a situation you can’t get out of?” she muttered. </p><p>“I deserve that.” </p><p>She did feel bad, and she couldn't help but give a weak smile as a truce. “Sorry.” </p><p><em>“You</em> don’t apologise to me.” </p><p>"Good point, you are very right.” </p><p>She was simultaneously glad and hurt to see his smile. It wasn’t a full one, it was a defeated one. The worst part was she wasn’t sure she had the want to resolve it. </p><p>And he saw that. His smile faded and he tilted his head and for a moment she felt her nerve endings tingle, every single one of them with the way he looked at her with such sorrow and remorse. </p><p>“C’mon,” he whispered softly, pulling himself up and holding his hand out to her, “I’ll find a way to get us back.” </p><p>Something about the way he’d said it, the way he’d looked at her told her he wasn’t just talking about getting her back to her room. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What a bloody awful chapter to write! There really is no saving the man. Lucky for the rest of us, the next entry in the series is a standalone, not necessarily a missing scene but takes place between 2.04 and 2.05 following this for no other reason than I love a good Jealous Ten faced with the horrible realisation that his actions might just have made Rose want to leave.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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